


Right

by tastewithouttalent



Series: Intended [2]
Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage, No Plot/Plotless, Same-Sex Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-24 12:11:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1604705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Spirit's third tip-off is that no one else calls him ‘senpai.'" Spirit freaks out, Stein is composed, there are many tears. Direct follow-up to Nervous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right

When the door opens Spirit knows who it is even before he hears the newcomer’s voice. The first tip-off is that he has been deliberately avoiding answering the originally tentative, eventually more and more insistent knocks, and that even Azusa wouldn’t just open the door if he’s not responding. The second is that he recognizes the shoes without lifting his head, even if the rest of the clothes are uncommonly normal. And the third is that no one else calls him ‘senpai.’

“Senpai.” Stein sounds very faintly amused. That’s not a surprise any more than his presence is. “What are you doing.”

“Freaking out,” Spirit says, sounding adequately hysterical. “Is everyone out there?”

“If by everyone you mean the five people you wanted here, then yes, everyone is out there.” There is the slightest pause. When Stein speaks again his voice has dropped drier than even he usually manages. “Waiting for you.”

Spirit whimpers without lifting his head. “I can’t go out there.”

There’s the rustle of crisp-starched fabric as Stein leans against the wall. “Well. You might have said something sooner. This will only give Maka more reason to consider you a flake, you know.”

“You’re horrible to me,” Spirit says. “Clearly I should have decided to marry someone kind and gentle who is willing to coax me back to myself in trying times.”

“Yes, senpai, I am the worst thing that ever happened to you.” Stein is audibly amused now. Spirit glances up just to confirm that, yes, the meister is smirking down at him. “It is only your own internalized self-loathing that prompted you to  _demand_  we get married.”

“Shut up,” Spirit says.

Stein’s smirk turns into a smile proper for a moment, and the meister reaches out to touch Spirit’s hair, the way he sometimes does, fingers just skimming the locks like the weapon’s a good-luck charm. “Come on. It’s two words, all of thirty seconds. You wanted this in the first place, right?”

“I want to  _be_  married,” Spirit clarifies. “This was scary the first time and now there’s no bride to take the focus off me.”

“I could have worn a dress, if that would help,” Stein says, so levelly that Spirit’s head snaps up to stare at him before he sees the sparkle of amusement in the meister’s eyes.

“Oh my god I hate you,” the weapon protests, but he’s starting to laugh, and when Stein reaches down to catch his elbow he lets himself be pulled to his feet. The meister really is unusually well-dressed, although Spirit recognizes his shirt, at least, from the anniversary party years before. His slacks are new, though, dark grey in contrast to Spirit’s own black, and though Spirit feels underdressed without his usual tie and jacket it’s worth it to see Stein relatively dressed up.

“You look great,” he says without thinking, idly pulling the meister’s collar straight although it doesn’t need it.

“Thank you,” Stein deadpans, but his eyes are still soft at the edges, even more than they usually are. Spirit is reminded vividly of their childhood partnership, the way he would sometimes catch Stein looking at him just like the meister is now, and very suddenly his throat is tight with tears and he can’t breathe.

“Don’t cry,” Stein says before Spirit has even sniffled or blinked hard. “You get incoherent when you cry, wait until you’re done talking.”

“Your rationality is, as always, appreciated,” Spirit shoots back, but his almost-irritation is enough to push back the worst of the urge to cry, and then Stein is pulling him out the door and down the hallway before he has a chance to think about it any more.

Stein’s steadying efforts are wasted as soon as they make it into the living room and Spirit gets a look at Maka, standing with Soul just over her shoulder and looking noticeably less violent than she usually does around him. She’s in a dress and Soul’s got a tie on, shockingly better-dressed than Spirit himself at the moment, and Maka’s hand is clutching so hard to her weapon’s that Spirit can see Soul’s fingers going white from lack of bloodflow. Marie’s there too; she’s beaten Spirit to the tears, at least. The appearance of the two men brings a fresh wave and she folds in over Azusa’s shoulder; the crossbow looks as cool as she always does, though she’s not meeting Spirit’s damp gaze and her glasses are tipped to catch the light. And Lord Death, of course, waving them forward and tossing generic greetings to the room at large, looking too large even in the oversized room the lab has to offer, even after they cleared all the furniture out for exactly this event.

“Come on, come on! Good to have you here, we’ll all so happy for you!” he declares. Maka’s biting her lips and going a little flushed with the effort of holding back tears, and Stein is smiling with absolutely none of the private amusement the expression usually has on his face, and Spirit couldn’t walk himself forward but Stein is pulling him gently, and he’s always been able to obey that impetus. Then they’re there, very suddenly, bounded between the older generation and the younger, and Lord Death is clapping his hands together and Spirit can’t  _breathe_  and he can’t see and Stein is looking at  _him_  instead of at Lord Death, that’s not right at  _all_.

“Spirit,” Lord Death says, his voice loud enough in the enclosed space that it cuts right through the weapon’s buzzing thoughts. “Are you ready?”

Spirit can’t speak around the tightness in his throat, but he manages a nod.

“Good! Let’s get this party going, then.” Lord Death brings his hands together in front of him, palms pressed together. Stein’s fingers are steady against Spirit’s shaking ones. “We all know why we’re here, and at the happy couple’s request we will keep this very short.” He tips his mask toward Spirit. “Spirit Albarn. Do you?”

Spirit nods as violently as he can, but that’s not enough, he knows it’s not enough. He chokes back an uncontrollable sob, sucks in air, and manages a shaky “I -- I do.”

That is enough. Lord Death turns to Stein while the realization that  _this is happening, this is_ actually  _happening_  is still prickling along his spine.

“Franken Stein.” The meister flinches very slightly at the obligatory use of his first name, but he doesn’t speak. “Do you?”

“I do.” Stein sounds calm and steady as Spirit knew he would, but his voice is oddly resonant with something that is almost meister-command, so unusual it takes Spirit a moment to recognize it as true sincerity.

Lord Death spreads his hands. “Congrats, kids! You can go ahead and kiss!”

Stein’s fingers slide across Spirit’s palm, the meister’s hand shifting until their fingers are interlocking instead of just gripping, and when he pulls Spirit turns in to face him without thinking. There’s that look in his eyes again, or maybe it never left, the nostalgic softness that, this time, with tears already running across his cheeks, makes Spirit laugh wetly rather than cry harder. He stays still when Stein leans in, shuts his eyes and smiles against the meister’s mouth when the other man’s lips brush against the corner of his. There’s a faint sigh of satisfaction from the onlookers; Spirit doesn’t know who it was, but when he opens his eyes everyone’s smiling, even Maka, and Stein’s still looking at him like he’s  _perfect_ , and everything is very briefly right with the world.


End file.
